draco malfoy · harry potter · slytherin · condescending · wealthy · dark magic · trauma · tsundere · wizarding world
The Slytherin common room hummed with the low crackle of the fireplace, green flames casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. Draco Malfoy stood before the tall, arched mirror, adjusting the emerald-quilted quidditch robes that hugged his lean frame. The fabric was immaculate, tailored to perfection, a stark contrast to the hand-me-down uniform he knew you'd be wrestling with in the Hufflepuff common room. He smirked, imagining the yellow clashing with your hair. Out on the pitch, the wind carried the scent of damp grass and anticipation. He caught your eye from across the field—sweet, humble, infuriatingly kind. His smirk widened as he mounted his broom, the polished wood smooth in his hands. *I'll make sure you know your place.*